A Love Best Shown Through Flowers
by Red Nightmare14
Summary: After the Korean War, many Korean mothers were forced to give up their children convinced with foreign soldiers. The Nation of Korea himself is of no exception…


**A/N: I wrote this for my 17** **th** **birthday (it isn't actually for another week but, oh well) and I'm a huge AmeKor shipper. It saddens me that this pairing is rarely seen and I wish that I could see more fanfics featuring it. I'm thinking of making a sequel to it, so let me know how you liked it!**

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It had finally quietened down. After three long years of active fighting the only war Yong-Soo now had to take part in was a silent one.

In hindsight, maybe accepting America's flirtations was not the best idea. Especially as it has now led Yong-Soo to this point. Even so, staring down at the baby in his arms made everything feel so much better. With his brown hair and dark eyes it was clear that the child was Yong-Soo's, but his facial features were so similar to that of America's that one could never say that they weren't related. It was a pity that soon that same baby will be taken away from him. At least he was being given to his father…

"The hero is here!"

Speaking of whom… Alfred Jones, better known as America, quickly made his presence known in the large house Yong-Soo resided in. The loud noise that the American Nation had produced woke their young son from his deep slumber. And he had strong lungs.

Just like his father.

Yong-Soo immediately attempted to calm his son's cries, but failed in dampening them even the slightest bit. Sighing he admitted defeat and gave him to his father, who was having similar success in cheering the boy up.

"Dude, why won't he just stop crying? I mean, I'm the hero and all but even I can't shut him up!" America cried, creating just as much noise as the baby if not more so. Which only made things worse as the boy seemed to being trying to match his parent in both volume and pitch. Really, it surprised Yong-Soo how much their son took after his father. He was much bigger than most other Korean babies – even Korea's own daughter, Dokdo Islands, had been a fairly tiny child. Though that may have been more to do with the fact that her father was Japan…

No, don't think about that traitor.

Sighing, Yong-Soo shook his head. "It's a lost cause, America. You scared him when you burst in here da-ze~. He's only young. He's not used to being around loud noises." Honestly, Yong-Soo knew how intelligent America really was, did he have to act so stupid?

The smile on America's face fell faster than an atomic bomb, and had just as much an effect on Yong-Soo's heart that "Little Boy" and "Fat Man" had on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He could never bear it when America's smile fell just a little… "How many times have I told you to call me Alfred?" More times than Yong-Soo could count… "We have a kid together-". Who still doesn't have a name yet "We should at least be on a first-name basis!" Yong-Soo hadn't been on a first-name basis with anyone since China abandoned him.

America handed their son to someone who looked at lot like him. Yong-Soo hadn't seen him come in but he did remember seeing him during the War... Canadia, maybe? "Here, Mattie, take the hero's baby while I talk to Soo here." Canadia took their son to a vehicle just outside Yong-Soo's house. Yong-Soo wondered why America wanted to talk to him so badly. After all, although America had shown some vested interest in him (which painfully reminded Yong-Soo of their son), he had just been a toy for America's use while away from his own country. He was nothing special, and he knew it. China and Japan had taught him that. He was nothing more than a toy to be used and thrown away at random. He couldn't believe that such a strong, powerful Nation would ever look at him for longer than a second.

And yet, here he was. Still here. Still waiting. Still caring for him after fighting a war with him. Seeing him at his worst, lower than ever before. Perhaps even still loving him…

No, Yong-Soo stopped in his tracks. No, he can't hope that America still loves him after all this time. He can't hope that such a beautiful and exotic Nation can love a worn toy. One that has been used over and over again, stamped under people's feet for others' gain. No, he can't hope that…

But maybe…

America began to walk slowly over to Yong-Soo. He was keeping his hand behind him at all times, even when he had been holding their son in his arms. (That had terrified Yong-Soo into thinking that Al – America – would drop him. But then he remembered when those hands tended for his wounds after being shot in the arm with a gun. How those arms had held him while the two sides of his people tore his mind apart. How those arms had lovingly caressed him through many passionate nights…)

Now, America was bringing those same hands back from around his back. A light blush peppered his pale skin from the fringe of his sandy hair to just under his bomber jacket. Those bright blue eyes now cast downwards, a shy smile gracing the other's face. Yong-Soo began to wonder when these feelings had started. When he had first seen Alfr – America – coming off that ship, the foreigner frozen in his place. Or when he had seen Yong-Soo's bastard daughter and had lifted her into his arms, proclaiming that she was one of the cutest children he had ever seen (his own daughter, Alaska, came first, of course). Alfred – America – was the first, and so far only, Nation to know of Hae-Un's existence. Not even her father, Japan, knew about her. So, he had become a sort-of father-figure for the young Nation, bringing her toys and buying her sweets whenever he came to visit. It had taken Yong-Soo quite a while to convince her not to attend the exchange, in fear of her keeping Alfred…America… longer than necessary. Though why Alfred…America, had insisted on being the one to collect their son was a mystery to Yong-Soo. Surely he could have just sent somebody, another soldier perhaps, to collect a baby.

Turning his attention back to the Nation in front of him, Yong-Soo could tell that Alfred. America. Was nervous about something. Blue eyes meeting brown, the American began to speak: "Yong-Soo. I know we haven't known each other long…" It was long enough. "And I know that your people won't be happy about this…" What did he mean? No he wasn't… "But I want you to have this." And with that, out from behind his back, Alfred brought out… A rose. A red rose.

Yong-Soo's heart stopped.

One of the things all Nations were born with was the knowledge of each other's national flowers. It was an innate knowledge that had become something more to every Nation, in every continent, across every ocean, as a symbol of lifelong love. A Nation only gave another – especially another Nation – their national flower if they loved them. If two Nations' national flowers were the same flowers, it showed a strong familial love between the two countries. But if a Nation personally gave one of their flowers to another, it meant 'I love you, and I want to be with you'. It was like a marriage proposal. If Yong-Soo accepted the flower, then he and Alfred would be bound together for eternity.

The only question was; why? "Why?"

"Huh?" Was Alfred's best answer. "What d'you mean 'why'?"

"Why are you giving me your national flower da-ze?"

Alfred stared at Yong-Soo for a second before answering: "You do know what me giving you a rose means, right?"

Now it was Yong-Soo's turn to look at Alfred for a second. "Yes, of course I do da-ze. But why are you giving it to me? You should be saving it for the one you love most da-ze."

Suddenly, Alfred was right up against Yong-Soo, pinning him against the wall. He lowered he head to whisper in Yong-Soo's ear, "I have saved it for the one I love most." Then, he backed away a step before holding out the rose again.

It really was a beautiful rose. Thornless, with an American-flag decorated ribbon being tied around the stalk. Its petals were a dark crimson, as dark as blood but still stunningly beautiful. It must have taken Alfred a long time to find such a beautiful rose.

That was what really convinced Yong-Soo. The rose was in such perfect condition and was so perfectly preserved that Alfred's devotion to the Korean shone through it. Looking closely, Yong-Soo could see small scars littering Alfred's hand, caused by the thorns of roses. Alfred had hurt himself while getting and preparing the rose, Yong-Soo thought. He must love be serious about this.

If Alfred was as serious about Yong-Soo as do all this, then Yong-Soo could easily accept a rose from someone whom he'd loved for over three years.

And so, Yong-Soo took the rose.

Immediately afterwards, Alfred planted a gentle, loving kiss onto Yong-Soo's lips. It went on for almost a minute before they stopped for air. Breathing against each other, they stared into each other's eyes, sensing the bond between them solidifying. It felt as though they were finally complete. As if before this they had never been whole and now they were.

"Y'know." Alfred panted. "We should really be thinking of a name for our own. I was thinking Anthony…"

The moment was ruined, though for a good reason. At least Yong-Soo now knew what name Alfred was planning to give their child…

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 **Reasoning behind this fic: After the Korean war (1950-1953), many 'G.I. babies' (the children of western soldiers, usually American, and Korean women) were filling orphanages around the country. The South Korean culture would not allow for mixed-race babies so Korean mothers were forced to give up their children to orphanages. This became a real problem as these children had no place to go. So, in 1955, Harry and Bertha Holt went to South Korea and adopted eight orphans and brought them back to the U.S. This started a flood gate of Europeans and Americans adopting mixed-race Koreans, so much so that the entire governmental system of South Korea was changed so that single mothers were now able to keep their babies even if they didn't have a male partner and mixed-race people were more accepted in South Korea. Molossia itself wasn't founded until 1977 (or 1999 depending on when you're counting it from) by Kevin Baugh in Nevada. However, as Nations seem to appear randomly at age six whenever a new territory is formed, I think that it would be reasonable to assume that they are older than when their land is founded. At least, as reasonable as you can get with fictional characters that can live for centuries…**


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